


Uncanny

by ACometAppears



Series: Who The Hell Is Bucky? [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Minor Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, PTSD, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 22:14:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1527593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ACometAppears/pseuds/ACometAppears
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s stupidly easy for the Winter Soldier to stay in the museum after dark. He’s not detected, he’s not discovered, he’s not even seen. He doesn’t know why, but he feels it’s his duty to stay, at least for tonight. He’s not sure if he’s being loyal, or just awaiting orders."</p><p>The Winter Soldier stays at the Captain America exhibit after closing time, and wonders who he is now. First part of the 'Who The Hell Is Bucky?' series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uncanny

**Author's Note:**

> This is several ideas I had about what Bucky might do post-TWS, compiled into one fic (there may be more to follow, as I might develop this into a series). Enjoy!!

It’s stupidly easy for the Winter Soldier to stay in the museum after dark. He’s not detected, he’s not discovered, he’s not even seen. He doesn’t know why, but he feels it’s his duty to stay, at least for tonight. He’s not sure if he’s being loyal, or just awaiting orders.

 _I’m with you til the end of the line._

He emerges from his hiding place beside a giant map of the part of Brooklyn he can’t remember growing up in. He’s unsure of where to turn to - what his mission is this time. He doesn’t know how to interact with people in a way that doesn’t involve hurting them. 

An old woman began talking to him earlier. She told him, _my father was rescued by Cap, and his Howling Commandos. Yes, him and Bucky - they were quite the team. He was a prisoner of war - I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for that poor boy, bless his soul, protecting him, sacrificing himself-_

It took all of ten seconds for the Winter Soldier to run to the restroom, and vomit up the little food in his stomach. She wondered where he went, but she didn’t wonder too hard. Young people don’t want to know about the war, anyway - they only come here for the Captain and his sidekick - they don’t want to hear old war stories, older than them by close to a century. 

If he’s only awaiting orders, he is disappointed - none come. How can they? There’s no one left to issue them. He doesn’t believe it, but some part of his mind assures him that if there’s anywhere that’s home, it’s here. Well - less of a home, more of a mausoleum, full of his old possessions and clothing; memories of someone he can’t quite remember being, someone he’s not quite sure still exists at all, haunting him; looming like shadowy ghosts, back-lit in the low lights of the museum in the night-time. The night watchman is easy enough to avoid.

He left Captain Rogers on the shore of the river once he knew he was alive. It would defeat the object of jumping in after him, to leave unsure of whether or not he’d succeeded in his task of rescuing him. He is still not sure why he committed to such a task, though. The one man left to kill, the one man HYDRA needed him to take out … Alive, because of him. 

He wishes in his weaker moments that the machines will be waiting for him when he walks out of the door: that his comrades will pick him up, and his arm will be repaired - it glitches, sometimes, damaged in the battle, and the river - and he’ll get to sit back, and fall back into mindless oblivion. 

Shades of grey were never the Winter Soldier’s forte. His existence was binary - during his assignments, people were to be ignored, or killed. When he saved Steve, he broke the code, going against everything he’d known. When Bucky saved him, he was going against everything he knew, just for the sake of a feeling. 

… Captain Rogers. His name is Captain Rogers. All the exhibit signs say so, and so did Pierce. That is his name. Nothing else - besides, maybe, Captain America. Bucky never liked that name. 

The Winter Soldier is glad, on some level deep down that feeds on his shame and sense of failure, that he doesn’t have to go back to HYDRA with this failure on his hands. They would put him back in the fridge, for this - they would put him back in there anyway, but they would be less likely to free him ever again, given his recent failure. 

The fridges always made him experience something he supposed was close to fear - he hasn’t seen his reflection in living memory (aside from the funhouse-mirror version of himself available for the general public to see in this exhibit) but he’s pretty sure that the look he’d see in his own eyes at the mention of being put into stasis again would be similar to that of his targets, when they attempt to beg for their lives. Strangely, he always retains the memory of what that looks like. He isn’t sure what he feels about it.

Being in stasis was never like being asleep - he was merely paused. When he was thawed out, it was as if he’d never left - except the HYDRA operatives were older, and more dismissive. Every time he was roused to kill, and maim, and put back in stasis. Effectively, it was like being awake for decades, with his only activities surrounding assassination. Part of the reason he feels so aimless is that he has not experienced this form of freedom in his living memory - the other part is due to his lack of knowledge of this brave new world, and on a more personal level, who he is. 

He hadn’t even considered who he was until he met Captain Rogers, who spoke to him like an equal - like a beloved friend. Now he cannot stop contemplating it; wondering who the hell Bucky is, and if it’s his voice he sometimes hears in his head, taking over; wondering what HYDRA did to him, and what untold horror stories lie in his past. 

He knows that sometimes he was the author of those horror stories, and sometimes the antagonist of them – but never the protagonist. He is not a hero. How can he be?

He doesn’t know it, but he escaped only once, during one of his wetworks missions in the states. He doesn’t recall; he didn’t really remember anything, but once his mission was complete, he got on a Greyhound bus and tried to get away. He remembered details - a sister, a father, so many smiles from pretty girls, and one most importantly from a _best friend_ \- but he didn’t remember himself. It didn’t matter, in the end - they caught him. That wipe was deeper than the others. It was more painful, though he doesn’t remember now. 

He can’t work out what to do, now, either. He doesn’t remember being in this predicament before: everything is new, and everything is fresh. With that comes confusion, and perhaps fear. He is not sure if he is afraid - the feeling is unfamiliar, and not usually applicable to anything but the stasis chambers he dislikes so much, so he is not sure he is able to distinguish it. 

Captain Rogers did not seem afraid - not to die. He seemed afraid to lose Bucky, though. He wouldn’t fight him. 

The Winter Soldier stares at the empty place where Captain Rogers’ WW2 uniform used to reside. Similarly, there is a blank space in his memory where Captain Rogers used to be - he is sure he used to be there. There is a hole there in the shape of Steve Rogers. There is also one in the shape of Bucky. He’s not sure either will be filled again - his new memories, new experiences, might not fit into those carved out spaces, specially designed for them in a previous life; a lifetime ago.

Increasingly, his life appears to be a series of puzzle pieces that seem not to fit anymore. It’s not a new problem. 

Captain Rogers told him who he was, but not what to do. No one is telling him what to do, anymore. He is alone, and aimless. His options are incredibly limited, as he sees it, though in reality he is free to do as he pleases. 

He can’t go back to his employers, because they are dead. He can’t talk to his next of kin, because they are dead. He can’t go back to where he used to live, because he is dead. It doesn’t belong to him anymore. He can’t remember the address, anyway - his memory is strange, to him. He knows he can’t really trust it. 

In a way, the machines that wiped him did him a favour. Everything was black and white before, and now it’s grey - and red, and white, and blue-

The Winter Soldier didn’t know what to do when Captain Rogers wouldn’t fight him. In the past, even the targets with no combat training tried to fight, tried to get away. But Steve just gave up when he’d gotten his job done; he didn’t run, though. The stupid son of a bitch threw his weapon – no, not a weapon, his _shield_ \- into the river. 

And what did Bucky do? He jumped right in after him. 

He followed him anywhere before - it wasn’t his first time, following him daringly into the jaws of death, just cause he needed to protect him. The need to protect was like a punch from within him, bursting from his chest and forcing him forward, until he was diving, hurtling downwards and into the murky depths of having a conscience; pulling Steve free, and saving him, like always, like old times. The only times Bucky didn’t save Steve were when Steve was saving him. 

He killed for Steve before. The Winter Soldier seems to know that, somewhere within himself - he feels troubled, though he can’t remember why; he doesn’t know that it’s because of the discrepancy between using a sniper rifle to shoot a man trying to kill Steve, and using a sniper rifle to try and kill Captain Rogers. 

He’s following him again, now - and, again, he still doesn’t fully understand why. When he’s sure all is calm, and silent, and that he is alone, he replaces his own jacket with the jacket that belonged to Bucky before his death. 

He feels like a fraud - like an imposter, a changeling, a _liar_ \- as he puts it on. It’s uncanny: simultaneously achingly familiar, and incredibly alien. The machine slips into the guise of a man it used to be: the Winter Soldier feels uncomfortable with the smell of the leather, and the feel of the collar against his stubbly neck, and the brush of his hair against the material, and the slip-slide of the leather across his metal arm. 

But some part of him wants to smile - he feels like he’s coming home. Sure, he’s a long way from Brooklyn, in more ways than one, but … Bucky feels just a little closer to the forties, and James Buchanan Barnes; the stitches hold him together just a little better than before. 

The thought escapes him, and before he knows it, he’s gone, back to being the Winter Soldier again - devoid of emotion, insides shadowy and black like smoke - but he’s still smiling, somehow. 

He can barely remember why: it’s just a memory of a feeling. But it’s getting stronger. 

The more he remembers, the more the feeling grows. Maybe one day, he’ll be able to act on it. He’ll find Captain Rogers - find _Steve_ , and tell him - tell him he doesn’t want to - to … He still … He still, he wants to … 

… The smile fades. The feeling is gone. 

But it will come back, one day. Maybe in a few weeks, or days, or tomorrow – or maybe even again today. Things won’t ever be the same as before - they’ll always be different, after what he’s done. 

But the thought of something almost as good as what they had before stops him from succumbing to the aimless, grey void he’s constantly wandering through, day after day, purposeless but not quite hopeless. 

Because Steve is out there. Steve never gave up on him. So he must still be worth something, even though he isn’t quite the Winter Soldier anymore, and he isn’t quite Bucky. 

Steve Rogers doesn’t seem like the type of person to give up. So Bucky - James, _Soldier, Sergeant Barnes, comrade-_

He won’t give up either. Not just yet.


End file.
